


i'm in rarepair hell. here's another oneshot collection.

by MalkyTop



Series: he is beauty he is grace that's a lie please save this man from himself [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, learning some important egg things, sanji is a growing egg boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalkyTop/pseuds/MalkyTop
Summary: the theme: sanji denies being anything but hetero, usopp is tired but patient. the relationship works somehow.





	1. this stupid banana man

“Hey, asshole.”

Usopp looked up and glanced at Franky. Franky glanced at Usopp and Zoro. Zoro was already standing up, but paused, looking at Franky. Chopper looked all around and nudged Brook awake. Luffy very carefully looked at nothing at all.

Sanji coughed and clarified, “Usopp,” allowing Zoro to plop back down and Brook to go back to sleep. Luffy laughed as loud as he ever did and belted out a long, low, “Oooooooooo _ooooooh!_ Someone's in _troublllleee~”_

“Luffy, I already know you snuck a slice of the roast. You're not eating until everybody else is done.”

The resulting emotional dramatics were cut off by the closing of the dining room door, and Usopp found himself alone with a temperamental man who happened to be good with a knife, and also was in the presence of many knives. That very man was, in fact, already moving into the kitchen, like he was a magnet, which were known for attracting metal, and, by the way, knives were usually made of metal, and even if Sanji made a point (which knives had) to not use knives except for cooking-related purposes, he was, as mentioned, _very_ temperamental and also, technically, Usopp was made of meat.

Before Sanji could say anything, Usopp blurted out, “Whatever it is, I didn't do it!”

Usopp didn't get attacked by knives. Only by a very sour look. “Don't be an idiot and get over here.” Usopp obeyed, if only to not be an idiot.

The kitchen wasn't bustling with noise. It had been, judging by the way pots and pans were currently arranged on the counters and the way food was carefully placed on the table (minus one slice of roast), but the past didn't fill the current silence and it felt a little disconcerting.

It seemed like Sanji wasn't in one of those angry moods and so Usopp relaxed. “So, uh...d'ya need me for something?”

Sanji uncovered a pot that was still on the stove. The kitchen smelled of soft ribs, melting off the bone. Usopp breathed in a whole mouthful, getting a taste of future satisfaction, but Sanji simply pointed. “You know why you put salt in soup?”

If Usopp was feeling cheeky, he probably would have made some jab about being concerned that a professional chef was asking _him,_ but instead he was just feeling off-guard and hungry, so he stuttered and said, “What? Um. Flavor, right?”

“Yeah. But when do you put salt in soup?”

“What's with the quiz all of a sudden?” Usopp shot back, but Sanji crossed his arms and stared until he was forced to mumble, “I dunno, I never thought there was a _when_ or anything…”

Sanji stayed silent, but when Usopp didn't come up with any other answer, he said, “You don't put salt in soup until the very end, right when it's being served. If you put it in while it's cooking, then the water evaporates, and then the whole soup-salt ratio is all fucked and you have a salty-ass soup. For this pot, I like putting in two scoops of salt,” he added, and Usopp felt that he was supposed to be watching him grab the tin of salt and measure it out, but he was watching Sanji instead. The only thing Sanji did was heft the pot of soup over to the table and then shout out the door that dinner was ready, and after that, it was like he had never called Usopp in at all.

* * *

“How do you prepare meat?”

Usopp was in the kitchen again, and he wasn't sure why. This time, it was before Sanji started cooking dinner. He was moving ingredients around, oiling up one thing or another. Rather than sit on the other side of the counter, Usopp found that he had to actually follow Sanji around, which was a little nerve-wracking, because every once in a while Sanji would just suddenly turn around to grab something and there had already been a few near collisions with sharp objects and red-hot woks. Usopp pressed himself against the fridge, the only safe spot, and shouted above sizzling vegetables. “Well…you gotta defrost it first, and then you season it?”

Sanji beamed at him briefly, or maybe that was a trick of the smoke. “How long to defrost?”

“Hours?” Usopp guessed.

“You estimate half an hour per pound. But you can speed things up by putting it in hot water. That's really the only way I can deal with Luffy's huge-ass stomach without leaving shit out overnight. You don't cook meat from frozen, because it'll take longer for the temperature on the inside to get high enough and by then, the outside'll be overcooked to hell. Not that the shitty rubber band'll mind, but it'll be inedible for normal people. When do you season it?”

“Look, Sanji...why're we doing this?” He didn't mean to sound impatient, but he probably did anyways. “Not that this isn't interesting or anything! But,” Usopp added, only that sounded even more impatient and so he stopped there.

Sanji looked over, his eyes shining dull. He opened his mouth. Chewed on his lip instead. “Just in case,” he finally answered.

“What's _that_ supposed to mean?”

But Sanji said, “Season meat before you cook it, but not too early. The salt'll dry up all the juices...”

* * *

Steam rice for about an hour. Don't leave it in, unless you want dry rice. Wash it before you steam it. If you’re frying leftover rice, pour some water over it to soften it up. Make sure the meat isn’t raw before serving it. Check the middle. You use this knife for meat. This knife for fish. This one for the rest. Curl your fingers like this so you don’t cut them off. Don’t chop the knife up and down for these vegetables – rock it on its wedge back and forth. Tomatoes: cut them in half, then lay them on the flat edge and cut them in wedges. Don’t try balancing them on their round edge. Same for anything else round. This is how you hold a spatula. Not like a dagger, like a  _spatula._ This is how you flip a pancake. This is how you turn a fish.

On and on and on and on. Over and over until it started to leak out of his head and finally Usopp threw down a spatula (very carefully) and said, “If you don’t tell me what this is all about, then I’m not gonna put up with this anymore. I’ve got stuff to do, and you don’t even need my help or anything! I think I at least deserve a reason before I let you just drag me all over the place.”

Usopp crossed his arms. Sanji glared at him, but he stood his ground, even as his nose started to falter a little. It took some time for Sanji to even answer, like he was seriously considering the pros and cons of just dropping Usopp in favor for dragging someone else in the kitchen and starting over, but both of them knew that there had never really been any other option in the first place, whether because everybody else was a culinary hazard or because he was an idiot about women; that was why Sanji had gone to Usopp first, after all, and Usopp knew that Sanji knew that Usopp knew, so there was no use trying to bluff Usopp back into cooking by pretending he _did_ have other options, so Usopp pressed his advantage by raising his nose up like he was looking down at Sanji, even if Sanji was slightly taller than him. But it was the look that counts.

Sanji ran his fingers through his hair and then down his face, sighed like the whole process was painful to him. “Don’t make a big deal out of this, okay?” he finally said, before switching the stove off and leaning heavily against the counter on one arm. The other was, of course, slipping a cigarette into his mouth. Usopp waited as Sanji tap-tap-tapped out some sort of pattern with his nails and sighed harder. “It’s just...so...lately I’ve been...thinkin’ ‘bout...”

He might have actually said something more under all that smoke he was spewing out, maybe? “Uh, could you repeat that?”

Sanji snorted, hard, and spat out, “I’ve been thinking about what if I die in my sleep, alright? And, and it’s _kinda_ freaking me out, but I just can’t stop thinking about it, so I figure, why not prepare for it? And here we are.” He waved his cigarette around with a flourish, before unwisely using the same hand to sift through his hair again. “So that, if it does happen. At least you still got someone who can handle the kitchen. That’s it.”

Dying in his sleep. Usopp had never quite thought about that before, but his imagination was eager enough to make up for lost time, not that there was actually anything to imagine, just going to sleep and...never waking up. Just stopping, and not even being aware of it. And then non-existence.

To be honest, it wasn’t necessarily a bad death, comparatively speaking. Not that there was a _good_ death, by any definition, but it was probably a painless one. Still, thinking about it would be enough to keep you awake at night, probably. And speaking of which, Usopp was pretty sure that the usual bags under Sanji’s eyes had actually been deeper than they were before. And he wanted to say, ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone?’ or ‘Do you feel bad? Are you sick?’ or something, but Sanji didn’t want him to make a big deal out of this, and saying those things would probably be making a big deal out of it, or at the very least a middling deal, a great deal maybe, so Usopp tried to think of other things to say. Conversational things. You know, like mortality was a normal thing to talk about on a regular basis. Sanji was staring at him now, mouth pressed thin, waiting.

“...If it weren’t for the cigarettes, you probably wouldn’t have to worry,” he offered.

Sanji was still staring, but differently. “What.”

“I, I was, I mean, you eat pretty healthy, so it’s just, like, health-wise...”

“I told you to not make a big deal out of it, not be a fucking asshole,” Sanji said, but he was scoffing like he actually wanted to laugh and was holding it in to look all business-like. He solved that problem by sticking the cigarette back in his mouth, which just goes to show how much he thought of Usopp’s advice. “Anyways. Now you know. We gonna cook now?”

Usopp looked away for a moment, fidgeted with his fingers. “But, doing this...doesn’t actually, _fix_ it?” he said like a question, and Sanji went rigid so maybe this counted as making a big deal out of it, but it seemed important to continue. “I mean, you still think about it. Right? You’re thinking, as long as you’re sure that we have...a backup, then you don’t have to worry about what would happen after. But. That doesn’t stop you from. Being afraid of the thing itself. So when you think about it, you still feel bad.”

Sanji’s fingers tightened around the cig, and maybe he was about to lash out, maybe Usopp went too far, but instead of kicking Usopp into oblivion for the sin he committed, Sanji just stared at some cabinets and gritted out, “It’s fine if I die as long as everyone’s okay.”

At that, Usopp grabbed Sanji’s arm, and Sanji looked surprised at that, and Usopp was surprised too because it just kinda happened and now he was just holding Sanji’s arm like an idiot, but he kept holding it anyways because sometimes you had to commit to your actions, and he squeezed it a little and said, “Nobody will be okay if you die.”

And that was probably enough of that. Usopp let go and coughed. “Anyways, you’re changing the subject, ‘cause I was talking about you feeling bad, not us, and I know how it feels to be afraid almost all the time, it’s not great. So you should actually do things that will make you not feel bad.”

“And that’s why I’m doing this, shithead. I said that when I was answering the question you asked, in case you forgot,” he said. It might have been a pointed statement in other circumstances, but for this one, it mostly sounded resigned. Like Sanji was just accepting that this therapy session was happening but he was tired of it already.

“Sanji,” Usopp said, trying to be patient and succeeding rather well, considering the topic at hand, “you’re thinking that if you make sure nothing bad happens after you die, then you won’t feel bad about dying, but have you considered. That maybe. You should work on figuring out how to... _not_ think that you might die in your sleep?”

That swirly brow furrowed, like Usopp had just repeated himself. Usopp rested a gentle hand on his shoulder and started screaming on the inside because how dense can one person be, holy shit, what a goddamn idiot.

“I’m saying. Instead of thinking about us. You should probably. Think about you.”

Sanji looked scandalized. “What about me,” he said suspiciously, like Usopp was pranking him with one of those fake snake cans or something.

“I know that this might be a hard concept to grasp. But maybe. Instead of trying to accommodate us in case you die. Maybe. You could think about. How _we._ Could accommodate _you._ So you can sleep easier. And not worry about dying in your sleep.” You buffoon.

Sanji held in a breath and glanced around, looking a bit lost. It was a bit funny and a bit pitiful, but mostly frustrating, and so Usopp took his arm and started to lead him to the table. “Let’s just sit and brainstorm, okay? What would make you stop thinking about this?”

“Probably working until I pass out,” Sanji drawled, but at least it was a joke and not a serious suggestion. Hopefully.

“We could hook you up to a heart monitor, so we could tell if something happened.”

“Are you an idiot?” Sanji said after a slow, long look, and wasn’t that unfair because who was the idiot who didn’t know how to take care of himself?

Usopp bristled and said, “I’m just tossing out suggestions.”

“Toss out better ones.”

Well. At least he was open to suggestions. Or at least playing along. This could be going a lot worse. Usopp hummed. “What if we have someone watching you sleep?”

“That’s creepy.” Sanji sighed, crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair. “Look. Maybe forget the whole surveillance thing. I’m still gonna think about shit, and that’s what keeps me up. So.” He shrugged, like that was the end of the sentence.

So he needed a distraction. But something that wouldn’t just keep him awake anyways. Distractions, distractions…

There were times when Usopp needed distractions from thoughts that traveled down dark, thorny paths. That’s when he would start a story, something heroic, something about himself, something that made the dark, thorny paths look traversable. But sometimes the solution wasn’t a story. Sometimes he just needed to stop thinking, because his own thoughts were treacherous and wouldn’t stop circling around and around. Those times, he just wanted to hold someone, let the sensation of physical touch fill his mind and push everything else out, know that there was a person with him who just somehow could magically make the thoughts go away. And even when he had nobody to cling to, there were other ways to fulfill that craving for something physical to hold.

“A stuffed animal. Or a body pillow,” Usopp said, and when Sanji gave him a skeptical frown, he added, “I mean, when I was alone, I always liked having something to, uh, hug. I dunno, it always made me stop thinking about things. So maybe it’ll work for you too?”

Sanji looked at him flatly. “And have the guys make fun of me.”

Of course. Of _course_ he would be difficult, just outright reject a _solid idea_ just because of some stupid image thing. “Nobody’s gonna make fun of you! Except for Zoro, maybe, but you guys fight, all the time, so that’s nothing new!” But oh _boy_ was that the wrong thing to say, because just mentioning Zoro made Sanji’s teeth grind, probably as he was imagining whatever insult Zoro would think up.

“I’m not gonna drag some shitty toy into bed, where everybody’s gonna _see._ ”

Usopp threw up his hands and got out of the chair because life was just a whirlwind of pain and _he was just trying to help._ “Well! If you’re worried about, like, physical evidence, then your only option’s to go snuggle someone after everybody’s asleep!”

There was an entirely too loud bark of a laugh, and Sanji almost fell off his chair when he scooted it back too fast. “In bed! With one of _you?_ Fucking really.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you hate men, whatever! I mean, I get that my other suggestions were kinda out there, I was just spitballing, alright? But this one you could at least _try,_ instead of being picky just because you don’t wanna look like an idiot, which, we already know you’re an idiot, it’s nothing new! Unless you actually _like_ your own misery, and that would really not surprise me at all! And if that’s the case, then just tell me right now so we could stop wasting time on this!”

It slowly dawned on Usopp, in the next few seconds as he caught his breath, that he said a lot of things that were exceedingly likely to get him kicked and probably buried in the ground. And this was bad, because Sanji was staring at him, mouth shut tight, very still, and he couldn’t exactly read his expression but considering this was Sanji, it was likely some flavor of pissed off, and maybe if he ran now he could make it to the door and hide behind some allies, but then Luffy crashed the door open and belted out “Sanjiiii, when’s food!” and Sanji suddenly had a very different look on his face as he fluidly leapt out of his chair and back into the kitchen, shouting, “ _Fuck,_ I didn’t finish making dinner!” and in all the clamor and confusion, Usopp decided that this was a perfect time to make himself scarce and possibly never look at Sanji again unless in company of someone else who was a higher priority on his Kick List, like Zoro.

* * *

Dinner was uneventful. Or, considering everybody’s propensity to make every meal a party, the correct phrasing might be, dinner was full of the same events. Sanji only looked at Usopp once, and that seemed to mostly make sure that he hadn’t told anybody about his messed up death thoughts. Which he didn’t, because he wasn’t a jerk, because this really should be a thing for Sanji to tell, because Usopp didn’t want his ass kicked.

Sanji didn’t approach him after dinner, nothing about going somewhere to talk over things more, or maybe apologizing, or maybe even acknowledging that maybe Usopp had given a legitimate idea that he should try out because his own health was more important than whatever pretenses he shrouded himself in just to look cool. But no, nothing, and soon enough it was time for bed, and Zoro went off for the first shift of watch and everybody else filed into their respective rooms, and Usopp found himself staring at Sanji across the way, just to see how much trouble, exactly, he was having. But it was too hard to tell, with his stupid bangs in the way. He was lying on his back, face looking straight up, and maybe that meant he was awake and maybe that was just his sleeping pose. It wasn’t like Usopp ever made a habit of studying how everybody slept. And in any case, he was drowsy and if Sanji wasn’t going to move, then he might as well just doze off.

Usopp’s consciousness skipped a beat. His eyes were still closed, but he was starting to be aware of something happening. His bunk shifting a little. A shadow above him. Sanji very carefully trying to get in his bed.

Sanji was trying to get in his bed.

This was enough for Usopp to snap his eyes fully open and he stared straight into Sanji’s face, which he seemed upset about but what else could he expect since he was trying to get in his bed, and Usopp was stuck between consternation and smugness because, hello, you could maybe give a head’s up? But also, ha!

“Move over,” Sanji whispered, like this was a regular thing he was doing, and then he climbed the rest of the way in. It was a bit of a tight fit – the bunks weren’t exactly made for two – but given both of their skinny frames, they were able to rest against each other somewhat comfortably. Sanji seemed at a loss of what to do next, so Usopp wriggled until he got Sanji’s head resting kind of on his shoulder, leaving his hand free to rest on Sanji’s side. Sanji threw his arm around Usopp and seemed like he was trying to get used to the idea that he had his arm thrown around Usopp. After a moment, he whispered, “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.”

That was the worst pillow talk that Usopp had ever experienced. And also the first. But it was far too late in the night to make a big deal out of it, and he really just wanted to go back to sleep so he just grumbled, “Keep that up and I’ll kick you out,” because both of them knew that there was really no other option. That was why Sanji always went to him first.

Sanji went silent. But Usopp could feel his breath, trying too hard to be regular, going in and out too fast, could sometimes feel his eyelashes brush against his skin. Usopp moved his hand to Sanji’s head and started tangling his fingers in his hair, muttered, “Close your eyes.” And then, “Just listen.”

He could hear his own heart beat-beating away in his head, proof that he still existed, proof that the outside world still existed, and he could feel Sanji’s breath start slowing to match the rhythm. He kept idly fiddling with Sanji’s hair, sometimes rubbing his fingers in slow circles against his skull, sometimes raking them gently across and twirling some strands around a finger. Doing whatever else he thought of, just to say that there was someone here.

Sanji’s breath evened out. Even his arm felt lighter, somehow. Usopp waited for a moment and then quietly said, “Hey.” And, getting no response, he finally allowed himself to drift off again.


	2. i don't remember the last time i wrote pure fluff. sanji is colorblind.

“I just want to try painting! At least once, just to see if I can do it!”

“But in my _dining room?”_ And Usopp at least had the awareness to look abashed, but he still aimed his imploring stare, the sort that Sanji was pretty sure he had learned from Chopper. Sanji redirected his head and sent the cleaver through the pork harder than was necessary.

“I’ll cover the floor and table with newspapers. And I’ll be super careful, you’ll forget I’m even here!”

“What about the fumes?”

A brief look shot across Usopp’s face, lips pulled up too taut, eyes a bit too large, and then he laughed and said, “No, of course not, it’s fine, it doesn’t smell...” He examined Sanji’s face a bit for any sort of disbelief. “...bad,” he decided.

Sanji would have sunk his head into his hands, but they were currently covered in blood. He sliced another chunk of meat. “Most paints are toxic, just so you know. That’s why artists die young.”

Usopp’s eyes went wide and round again. “Nobody told me that.”

“It’s fine if you’re in a ventilated place. What kinda paints you got?”

“Well...” There was a white sort of tray on the table in front of him, cheap plastic. It had a covering that was held in place with a tab, and Usopp fiddled with it now, revealing several colorful circles. “The lady said watercolors are good for beginners...”

“Oh, those aren’t toxic.”

Usopp collapsed on the table. “Oh thank god. I thought I’d have to throw these away.” Then, snapping up straight again, “You coulda told me that first!”

“I didn’t know you had watercolors.”

Usopp opened his mouth automatically, but had nothing to say. There was no arguing against a perfectly aggravatingly simple answer and Sanji’s smirk didn’t help any, and so instead Usopp said, “Can I paint here?”

Sanji slid the sliced meat into a bowl and started cleaning off the knife. “Yeah. No fumes. But just so you know, if you use any of my good cups for your shitty paint water, I’ll bake your arms like breadsticks and force them down your mouth.”

“Okay, okay, just give me a crummy one.”

The mug was the sort of off-white that came with age, and whatever image that had been on it was long flaked away. It was chipped at the top, and inside was a stubborn brown ring that remained no matter how much Sanji scrubbed. It certainly wouldn’t be missed.

The sketch looked like it went as well as it always did, done with just a few sweeps of the pencil on the page. Sanji watched as he performed his own form of art, starting with the stir fry. Usopp was most at home with babbling, lying, chattering, just acting like a kid, but when he focused, it felt like a sight to be treasured. The look of a sharpshooter preparing a perfect shot, sniping unerringly from the sidelines, perforating holes in his targets and forcing them to fall or to retreat, bleeding. Though in this case, the only blood here was the paint bleeding the paper. Which happened often, judging from the occasional dark mutters and huffs, the gnarled way his fingers rushed through his hair.

Still, his muttering was like the calculations he mumbled under his breath before letting a particularly difficult shot fly, those unknowable numbers and factors that went into a bullet; and if Usopp could master the science of shooting, then he could certainly figure _this_ out. At the moment, he was applying paint on some scrap paper, mumbling something about shading.

Usopp didn’t look up when rain started to pitter patter outside, nor when the rest of the crew burst in for the warm, dry comforts of the kitchen. As Sanji put the soup on hold to whip up some warm drinks real quick, Franky came up behind Usopp and said, “Lookin’ super, bro!”

Usopp jumped and threw his arms over the paper, lifted them to check if he had smeared the paint, thew them back down again. “Nooooo, don’t look! I’m not done!”

“Yeah? Well it looks super great already.”

“It doesn’t, it’s terrible, shut up, nooooo,” Usopp said into his arms and didn’t stop until Sanji came around and nudged him.

“Oi. Got cocoa. You want one or what?”

“COCOA!” Luffy cheered, snapping a mug off the tray and gulping it down before dribbling it back out in the cup with a disappointed look.

“Oh, that one’s tea.”

“Mmmgh…Zoro, here.”

“Ah, thanks – _like hell I’m drinking that!”_

As Zoro started to drown Luffy in his own backwash, Usopp raised a hand. “Yeah, cocoa’s good...uhhh, wait...” He glanced towards the paint mug and then back to the array of mugs on the tray. “Uhhh, give me that green one.”

Sanji scanned his tray, hand hovering above. His cigarette rolled around between his lips. “Uh.”

“That one right there. The one that’s striped. That one. That – _Sanji,_ ” Usopp broke off, sounding a bit frustrated, but he took a deep breath and the cup he wanted, and said, with genuine curiosity, “are you colorblind?”

“ _No,”_ Sanji said, and abruptly turned to hand the other mugs out. But, unfortunately, the Strawhat crew was not one to forget about an embarrassment.

“That explains a lot,” Zoro mumbled into his cup and Sanji took back his drink, set it flat on the table, and then kicked his chair out from under him.

“Yeah, like his weird sense of fashion,” said Nami above the sounds of crashes and cursing, and Sanji paused everything to turn towards her.

“What does that mean,” he whimpered.

(“Hey, what’s colorblindness?” Luffy asked.

“It’s when someone is unable to see certain colors,” Robin replied, and smiled while Luffy crossed his arms and mulled the concept over.)

“Well I didn’t want to say it, but some of your shirts are pretty ugly.”

“They look ugly even if you’re colorblind,” Chopper muttered, and the two betrayals sent Sanji reeling into a chair.

Franky tisked and set a wide arm over Sanji’s shoulder. “ _I_ like your shirts, bro.”

For some reason, this did not make Sanji feel better. He threw Franky off and gathered enough strength for a last defense. “I’m not colorblind,” he insisted. “Red and green are just hard to tell apart!”

“Uh, you’re supposed to be able to tell them apart.” The wildly bewildered look that Sanji sent to Usopp was heartbreaking, and if only this news could’ve been broken to him in a different way, and, wait a minute, “You didn’t know you were colorblind? For _nineteen years?”_

“Wait, why the hell do you call me mosshead if you can’t see green?”

“It looks the same as grass!”

“ _But you can’t fucking see green.”_

“ _Nineteen years?”_

“Wait, if he can’t tell red from green, does that mean green looks like red or red looks like green?”

“We can’t really answer that question since we don’t know what red or green looks like, Nami.”

“Oh, right...”

“ _Nineteen years.”_

“ _Shut up!_ I just thought everybody else was more discerning!”

“For _nineteen years.”_

“I’d believe it. He’s just that dense.”

“You piece of,” Sanji managed to get out, but then Luffy popped up in front of him, dangling an apple in his face.

“Oi, Sanji. Can you see this?”

The impromptu questions was enough to silence all current conflict. Sanji could only stare, caught in a whirl of thoughts, several of which were about the recent revelation and one of them about how Luffy snuck into the goddamn pantry. He almost considered that this was a trick question, but it was Luffy. “Yeah?” he answered. “It’s an apple.”

He was having a hard time deciding whether he was angry or not when Luffy pouted and looked back at Robin. “Hey, he can see it!”

“It’s not that all things red and green are invisible to him, Luffy. It’s just that from our point of view, he sees red and green hues as a color we would consider wrong.”

Luffy considered this. Turned back to Sanji. “Hey, what color is this?”

Okay. Yup. Definitely angry. “It’s _red,_ ” he gritted out.

“Hey, he knew the color!”

“ _Everybody knows apples are red.”_

“Usually red,” Zoro said, smirking like an asshole, absolutely beaming with pride over those two fucking words like he had just gave birth to twins or something. Sanji snatched the apple from Luffy’s hand , tossed it back in the pantry, parked himself in front of the stove, and fumed like the soup he was stirring.

“It’s okay, it’s not so bad to be colorblind,” Usopp threw out, finally taking a sip from his drink. He immediately spat out the paint water before he could swallow any, managing to catch Zoro in the crossfire, which Sanji appreciated.

* * *

Usopp lingered long after the others moved on to other things, sitting across the bar while Sanji washed dishes.

Everybody had the decency to drop the subject during dinner, even Zoro, for a while. Chopper asked if there was anything he needed, if he felt alright, and Sanji said, “Who the fuck cares about red and green anyways,” leaving it at that.

Right now, he was stubbing out a cigarette in the ashtray he had moved to the sink. “What the shit’re you still around for?”

“Oh, well,” Usopp said, arms curling around a dry piece of paper. “Just wanted to say, thanks, for letting me, paint here?”

“Eh. You cleaned up after yourself. Doesn’t matter.”

“Well, thanks anyways.”

Sanji continued to wash dishes. Usopp still sat there, glancing around. Eventually, he started to cough, like he was starting up his engines. “So. Like. I actually, wanted to give you this? Since, you let me experiment and all. And also, I was kinda trying to paint you? So, here.”

Sanji turned to see Usopp holding out the result of his watercolor test, looking somewhere at the floor. He dried his hands on his shirt and lifted it by the edges, pinching the corners where none of the paint was. The painting was exactly what Usopp would have seen, sitting where he had been, of Sanji in the kitchen. There was not much detail. Everything sort of blended together, and Sanji was pretty sure he didn’t have a face. But it lent itself to this light, ethereal, _watery_ sort of atmosphere, like the sun shining through the ocean, or the sleepy haze of the morning. Sanji held it up to the light and examined it further. The blue of his shirt was rather striking.

Usopp was coughing again, a little anxiously this time. “So, I guess, like, it might be kinda mean of me? To give you a painting, but I didn’t know you were colorblind when I started and I kinda was planning to give it to you anyways, but now it seems a bit sad, or I mean, silly? Since like you can’t see it the way I can, and I guess that means...it loses? Something? So you don’t have to keep it – “

Sanji lazily glanced back at him. “Looks fine to me. Not like I can tell the difference.” Usopp laughed at that, a bit high and ending in a sort of question, but Sanji smiled back and he relaxed a little at that – still a little fidgety, picking at his hair, his fingers, kicking a little against his stool.

“I think I’ll even put it on the fridge.”

Usopp held out his hand. “I changed my mind. Give it back.”

“I thought art was meant to be seen!”

“Sanji.”

“Maybe the next time Luffy tries to raid the fridge, he’ll get distracted by such a glorious painting – “

“ _Sanji.”_


	3. usopp comes out as gay and sanji keeps thinking this feeling is disgust and he's horrified by that but it turns out he's gay too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an anonymous prompt on tumblr: "Please write a story about the stupid banana man based on that article you reblogged, please and thank you"
> 
> article mentioned is [this one](http://sleepdepravity.tumblr.com/post/145387749984/brandondominguez-surprisebitch-heres-the)

“I’m gay.”

Usopp ducked his head and hid his face behind his hands, like that would save him from whatever he was expecting. Sanji sat across from him, rolling his cigarette around with his tongue, waited for a moment.

“Yeah?”

He could see the end of Usopp’s nose quiver for a few seconds after, and then it just stopped. Usopp emerged from his hands and stared. “That’s it? ‘Yeah?’”

Sanji blinked. “Uh. Yeah.”

“I’ve been freaking worrying about this so much I felt like I was gonna throw up, I think I actually _did_  at one point and I don’t even remember because I was freaking out about this for so long and _that’s_  all you say, _holy shit_  Sanji, I’m gonna cry, I’m crying, I can’t believe you.” He actually was crying, his eyes prickling with tears that dripped down irregularly. It looked painful, the way they hung in his eyes as long as they did, gathering up enough weight to actually fall, and Sanji wasn’t really sure what to do about this because it wasn’t like Usopp was sad or in pain or anything else that he understood, he was just…upset? Because all Sanji could say was ‘Yeah.’ 

“Sorry?” he said, which probably didn’t make things better because Usopp made a choked scoff and rubbed at his eyes. “Was I, uh, supposed to say something else?”

“I thought you were gonna hate me,” Usopp said, and those words were enough to punch Sanji straight in the heart and rip it out and shit, he dropped his cigarette. It didn’t seem right to lean down and pick it up again, so he ground it under his heel and kept staring at Usopp.

It probably would have been better if he had sat next to Usopp instead of across. As it was now, he just felt trapped in the seat that he chose and like a real asshole for just sitting here like a moron. But at the same time, standing up now didn’t feel right. It felt like something would break, like the conversation, or the world, or maybe Usopp. “I wouldn’t. Why would I?”

Usopp straightened up with a squint. “’A real man forgives a woman’s lies.’ ‘A man who can’t wipe away a woman’s tears isn’t a real man.’ ‘Real men would never hurt a woman.’” With that, Usopp gestured with his hands palm up and raised an eyebrow at Sanji.

“Okay. So that probably didn’t sound so great to you.” He tried not to be offended by the way that Usopp’s eyebrow just raised higher. “But it’s fine, alright? It’s not a big deal to me.”

“…Really?”

Sanji shrugged. “I lived on a ship filled with men for over half my life. Half of them were gay and I’m pretty sure the other half was in the closet. I didn’t mind.”

“Uh. I distinctly remember you picking fights with all of them. They were pointing _guns_  at you.”

“Yeah?”

Very slowly, Usopp collapsed onto the table. “Your life is really messed up.”

“Also that means your girlfriend back home is free, right?”

“I’m gonna freaking kill you.”

“So who else knows?”

Usopp still had his head in his arms, and so mumbled out a muffled, “Everyone.”

“Since when?”

The black nest of hair ruffled, burying itself deeper. “Since the beginning.”

Ah. Well. Okay then. 

Sanji brought a hand to his mouth and then remembered that he didn’t have a cigarette at the moment. He huffed out a breath anyways. “Right. So now I know.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“So. We’re good?”

“We’re good.”

“Really?”

“Nothing’s gonna change,” he promised, idiot that he was.

* * *

At dinner, Usopp made it known that everybody on the ship was officially up to speed regarding his sexuality, and Sanji shrugged under everybody’s gazes and Franky slapped Usopp on the back (almost breaking the table) and said, “See? Nothing to worry about!” 

“So what, should we all just share our preferences now?” Zoro drawled.

“ _No._  I _really_  don’t care.”

“Well for the record, I like girls,” Nami declared, and Sanji felt compelled to burst into tears right then and there. But it was time for dessert now, and Sanji delivered his super-duper special sorbet for Robin and Nami with his words flooding with the usual painful poetry, and Zoro said, “What the fuck, you’re even stupider than I thought,” and Sanji got up, walked to the alcohol cabinet, and left the room with bottles filling his arms. Zoro jumped out after him a moment later, bellowing, “YOU BETTER NOT I’M GONNA FUCKING GUT YOU” and Chopper followed after just to make sure nobody was getting fucking gutted, and everybody else got up as well because who wouldn’t want to see Sanji threatening to throw all the booze overboard while desperately dodging swords?

See? It’s the same as always. No problem.

* * *

Every once in a while, Sanji found himself passing in front of the door, just to peek out at the deck. There was no other way for him to really see anything from his kitchen, and he had been just fine with that until suddenly he wasn’t, and he was stirring up batter and pacing to the door and back again and he hated it every time but he _couldn’t stop._

Zoro was sitting by the mast, pumping some shitty weights and drinking some shitty grog, and also talking to Usopp.

It’s not like that was rare or anything. Even though Sanji couldn’t imagine how anybody would want to converse with the shitty mossball any period of time, many people tolerated him, sometimes even sought him out. It was baffling, but normal. And Sanji kept pacing.

The thing was, everybody had known. Everybody had known, except for him, and suddenly so many things surrounding Usopp kept looking different now. Everybody knew, back then, so when Usopp had clung onto Zoro, screeching for help, was that…? And when Usopp was so obviously admiring just how strong Zoro was, how brave, and when Zoro snorted but didn’t snap at him to stop, did that mean…?

Fuck. No. That’s ridiculous. Sanji knew what flirting was. He was basically in a constant state of flirting. He was an _expert,_  and he should just _know_ that Usopp was just being Usopp, thinking along _those_  lines…was just really shitty, why was he an asshole, probably Zoro, probably he was just being extremely annoyed at Zoro, because Zoro was just so hateable, he couldn’t help it. Fucking Zoro, handing over his weight and watching Usopp struggle and laughing, able to see whatever strained expression Usopp had, and Usopp was laughing too, sheepishly, and Sanji paced back to the stove and planted himself there because fucking Zoro was making him physically ill, fuck him and his shitty face.

And the sight of Luffy was starting to make him gag too, probably would have made him throw up if he wasn’t so determined not to, his goddamn greedy hands, the shitty way he tried to sneak in (and ‘sneak’ was a generous way to put it), his stupid loud voice and his stupid loud laugh and the stupid way he traded jokes with Usopp or dragged Usopp into being his partner in crime, and the way he was just so fucking _touchy-feely_  all the goddamn time, never having any idea of personal space.

It was when he was starting to glare at Chopper too that Sanji realized, fuck, maybe things were getting a little out of hand. He was gonna have to admit it. He hated Usopp.

He tasted bile every time he saw Usopp with the other guys. He had to physically leave the immediate area. It was…just, gross. And he was a fucking asshole. Just kill him already. Fuck.

The only good thing (for a certain definition of ‘good’) was that he absolutely didn’t _want_  to feel this way, and if he was disgusted by Usopp, he was a hundred times more disgusted by his own disgust. That meant he knew better, and maybe if he just hated himself more than he hated Usopp, then he could forget about hating Usopp. If he could just berate himself about all the ways he was being so extremely wrong, then maybe. He would stop?

He was almost relieved when Usopp took him aside with his mouth flat-lining. Mostly because he didn’t feel like throwing up. And that almost made him feel giddy, which was probably not that great, because Usopp looked at him and said, “You’re not okay with it.”

“I am!”

“First of all, you keep glaring at me. Second, you’ve been in a bad mood – “

“I’m always in a bad mood.”

“ – a _worse_  mood than usual!”

“I ran out of cigarettes,” Sanji said, which was true.

“Because you’ve been smoking more than usual.” Which was also true. And he couldn’t exactly say that he’d been smoking more to try to not feel like barfing. Usopp rubbed at his face and looked away. “I knew it was a bad idea…”

“No! No, no, look, you like guys, whatever! I seriously couldn’t give less of a shit about that!” But Usopp was leaning against the wall, giving him the side-eye. Sanji grabbed his shoulders with both hands. “We’ll be landing soon. You can come with me for grocery shopping. We can talk it out. Or not. The point is, _I don’t care._ So.”

Usopp brushed his hands off (his wrists prickled at the touch, like the feeling of heat from a fireplace, and even if he had tried to keep his hands holding on, he would have been pushed off regardless because Usopp brushed his hands off and something about that just couldn’t make him stick) and murmured, “Maybe.”

It wasn’t really a promise, not at all, so Sanji wasn’t too surprised when they landed and he emerged onto the deck to find that Usopp had already taken off.

* * *

He bought a pack of cigarettes for the road and already went through half of it. He examined the contours of a single radish for ten minutes until the shopkeeper threatened to shoo him away. He needed help. _God_  he needed help, and if he didn’t get help then something irrevocable might happen and it was something he didn’t want to be responsible for.

But it just didn’t make sense.

There was Nami and Robin, window-shopping across the way, and Sanji found himself trotting over to them automatically with a call that was less than enthusiastic.

“I seriously never had this problem before,” he said once they all sat down at a cafe table. “I really don’t want to be a fucking asshole this time, but it’s just! Shit. I dunno.”

“I’m not sure why you’re talking to us, it’d make more sense to talk to the other guys or something.”

“Nami-san, please consider my options.”

It took less than a second for her face to crease in an expression of horrified sympathy. “Point taken.”

“So this attitude is truly recent? You’ve never had any issues before?”

“I mean, guys’ve come on to me, and if they didn’t take a hint then I’d kick their asses but, y’know, that was _personal._  And I was just annoyed, not fucking sick to my stomach!”

“Wow, you really do sound like an asshole.”

“ _I know,”_ Sanji whined into his hands. The tea he had bought was more ash than anything now, since he had used it as an ashtray. He wasn’t looking forward to drinking it, but he still tapped his cigarette on the edge of the cup. “I don’t want to be! Just, every time I fucking see him with the other guys…”

“So you wouldn’t be bothered if, say…” Robin glanced around, then discreetly pointed at a table to the left. “…Those two were to suddenly lock lips?”

Sanji glanced over and scoffed. The image wasn’t too hard to imagine, considering how close the two were sitting already. “No.”

“But if it was Usopp…” Robin prompted, and Sanji immediately covered his mouth with a hand and slammed his head on the table.

“Oh my god,” Nami said. “You can’t be serious. You gotta be fucking kidding me, oh my god. You’re an idiot.”

Sanji groaned in agreement.

“I don’t mean that you’re an idiot ‘cause you’re an asshole, but you’re an idiot because you think you’re an asshole when you’re just an idiot.”

“Sanji,” Robin cut in, sounding a little more patient. “If this is unique to Usopp, then doesn’t that mean there’s something special about Usopp?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sanji said to the table. “He’s just Usopp.”

Nami grabbed his head and pulled him over, endangering all their drinks at once. “You’re not disgusted, you’re fucking _jealous_  you idiot.”

Sanji frowned. “Why would I be jealous of Usopp?”

“ _Oh my god,”_ Nami screamed, slamming his chin down on the table, which hurt, but also, holy shit, hang on.

Fuck.

* * *

He was afraid that Usopp wouldn’t want to talk, but here they were, in the same seats as before. There were already three cigarettes in the ashtray. Sanji hadn’t even said a word yet, just kept his legs crossed and his foot tapping. Usopp was crossing his arms and leaning as far back as he could, staring at wood grains.

“Uh,” said Sanji. “So.”

He went through another cigarette.

“So you know how I said that, uh, back at the Baratie, like half the guys were gay and the other half were probably in the closet?”

Usopp’s brow creased, but he said, “Yeah.”

“So. I might have been, included. In one of those groups. Possibly. And. Uh. You…might’ve…or actually, I…uh…”

Sanji wasn’t sure if it was really necessary for Usopp to laugh for two minutes straight, but given the past few days, he probably deserved it.


End file.
